"Fear of loneliness is a powerful thing", said Kelsey Grammar as Harry Hamilton in the film, Like Father. I saw it this afternoon on Netflix and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was cathartic, emotional, funny, real and ironic: everything that makes it a good film for me.
I believe that at any given point of time, people operate from either one of two things: love and fear. Think about it. Why did I keep going back to my boyfriend? Why did my parents shout at me as a child? Why do I fight with people close to me? Why do we put that extra effort into creating something for someone or even ourselves? Is it out of love or out of fear? Chances are, for every one of those questions, at different times in our lives, the answer could be love and fear. This made me go back and (hesitantly) think about what went wrong, what was right, and what couldn't be fixed. I couldn't go too deep into it, because the wound is fresh. But I'm opening up to the possibility that not everything we said or did was out of fear. And not every promise or plan we made was out of love. Which was which and when? I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready to face that yet. Maybe later.
Today was Spa Day. I put on a mud pack on my face (Multani mitti/clay in case you're wondering). I filled a small tub with epsom salt and hot water. And I soaked my feet in it, while my face got crackly and cool with the clay. This, while watching Like Father on Netflix. My mother, ever-ready for a spa day, joined me. We broke for lunch, which was THE most delicious coconut fish curry I've tasted in Goa, made by my father. I, then, experimented with the mango topping on my lemon bars. Not too shabby! The flavour of the lemon bars is a bit over powering so you want to check the ratio of lemon bar to mango slices based on your preference. But a really yummy combination! *Pat on back*
It's been cloudy today, with intermittent rain. Every few moments, I'll hear a gentle rush of raindrops outside my balcony, with a gush of wind entering my room. No city noise, no honking cars or shouting people, no pollution, no blaring radio on the sidewalk. Just the sound of rain, some birds, the jazz radio my mom's listening to downstairs while she has tea, and way in the background: the distant roar of the sea.
Every few moments, his face pops up in my head and I feel a pang so potent I want to split in half. I'll never see that face the way he looked at me again. He'll never smile for me again. I'll never get to bury my nose in his chest and melt into his warmth. Then I remember all the things I didn't like about him, and how I tried to move past them, but eventually couldn't. I'm left with a mixture of emotions: guilt, shame, disappointment, sadness, hurt, anger, resentment but also clarity on the fact that this was our last try and it's done.
I went up to the terrace, thinking I'd paint something, but I saw the pool outside our house: blue, empty, untouched, undisturbed, with light ripples made by the breeze. I had to be a part of it. So I went for a swim. I was pretty impressed with my enthusiasm. As I was getting ready to go in, I had a barrage of doubts: Am I fit enough? Will it be cold? Oh, I'm not ready to do this. Maybe I should wait another day before I get out and about, I'm too depressed. Oh, but the water doesn't seem too cold, it's pretty lukewarm; just right. Well, I'm already in halfway, might as well go all the way in.
Once I was in, there were no thoughts. My body knew what to do. And I swam. It was liberating. Reassuring. Effortless. Brilliant. All the things I feel when I make music, or when I excel at something. I always remember the feeling I get when I swim. Exhileration. Freedom. Strength. Infinity. Solitude. Peace. What I was born to do. I meditated as I glided underwater, remembering the space within me is just as infinite as the water I'm swimming in. The silence around me silenced the chatter inside me. My tired and sore body felt activated. I floated on the surface of the pool, feeling weightless. The hot shower after my swim was the best I've had in days.
I hope to do this more often. I hope I have the courage to move a step forward every day, however small. I hope to remember that I don't have to freeze when something bad happens. That I can wiggle my toes to start with and make my way up.
I hope.
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Today was Spa Day. I put on a mud pack on my face (Multani mitti/clay in case you're wondering). I filled a small tub with epsom salt and hot water. And I soaked my feet in it, while my face got crackly and cool with the clay. This, while watching Like Father on Netflix. My mother, ever-ready for a spa day, joined me. We broke for lunch, which was THE most delicious coconut fish curry I've tasted in Goa, made by my father. I, then, experimented with the mango topping on my lemon bars. Not too shabby! The flavour of the lemon bars is a bit over powering so you want to check the ratio of lemon bar to mango slices based on your preference. But a really yummy combination! *Pat on back*It's been cloudy today, with intermittent rain. Every few moments, I'll hear a gentle rush of raindrops outside my balcony, with a gush of wind entering my room. No city noise, no honking cars or shouting people, no pollution, no blaring radio on the sidewalk. Just the sound of rain, some birds, the jazz radio my mom's listening to downstairs while she has tea, and way in the background: the distant roar of the sea.
Every few moments, his face pops up in my head and I feel a pang so potent I want to split in half. I'll never see that face the way he looked at me again. He'll never smile for me again. I'll never get to bury my nose in his chest and melt into his warmth. Then I remember all the things I didn't like about him, and how I tried to move past them, but eventually couldn't. I'm left with a mixture of emotions: guilt, shame, disappointment, sadness, hurt, anger, resentment but also clarity on the fact that this was our last try and it's done.I went up to the terrace, thinking I'd paint something, but I saw the pool outside our house: blue, empty, untouched, undisturbed, with light ripples made by the breeze. I had to be a part of it. So I went for a swim. I was pretty impressed with my enthusiasm. As I was getting ready to go in, I had a barrage of doubts: Am I fit enough? Will it be cold? Oh, I'm not ready to do this. Maybe I should wait another day before I get out and about, I'm too depressed. Oh, but the water doesn't seem too cold, it's pretty lukewarm; just right. Well, I'm already in halfway, might as well go all the way in.
 |
Once I was in, there were no thoughts. My body knew what to do. And I swam. It was liberating. Reassuring. Effortless. Brilliant. All the things I feel when I make music, or when I excel at something. I always remember the feeling I get when I swim. Exhileration. Freedom. Strength. Infinity. Solitude. Peace. What I was born to do. I meditated as I glided underwater, remembering the space within me is just as infinite as the water I'm swimming in. The silence around me silenced the chatter inside me. My tired and sore body felt activated. I floated on the surface of the pool, feeling weightless. The hot shower after my swim was the best I've had in days.
I hope to do this more often. I hope I have the courage to move a step forward every day, however small. I hope to remember that I don't have to freeze when something bad happens. That I can wiggle my toes to start with and make my way up.
I hope.
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